


A Battle of Kings

by MisterCottontail



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Competition, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fate, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterCottontail/pseuds/MisterCottontail
Summary: Make love, not war.





	A Battle of Kings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tomoka0013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomoka0013/gifts).



My ass is falling asleep. I’ve been sitting on the curb for hours - since sunset. The air is hot and humid, and the cotton of my shirt clings uncomfortably to my chest. In the distance, the constant hum of passing traffic provides a bass note to the endless chirping of thousands of crickets, but no cars pass on this road. I stretch my legs out across the asphalt, again, sighing and watching the clouds slide by overhead. Absently, I scratch the back of my hand. The skin still tingles where the command seal once was. ‘What a waste,’ I think.

Footsteps. The now-familiar sound of metal grating against concrete. The light tinkle of gold jewelry bouncing off of plate armor. The air takes on the heady scent of incense and wine.

“Come back, have you?” I ask. It’s the wrong thing to say - as if there were a right thing to say.

“Are you attempting to chastise me, boy?” His laugh is dry, but comes naturally, a sound made by those that find only pity for the world around them. “And what makes you think I’ve come back for a pitiful excuse of a mage like you? No, mongrel, it’s he that has caught my attention.”

I can hear the disgust in his voice as he speaks to me. I know his cruelty is founded. Why should a servant this powerful ever listen to an amateur master like me? I look up, searching for the one that brought Archer back to this place, but see only darkness.

Then, footsteps. Dry leather on asphalt. Sandals? ‘Who wears sandals?’ Behind me, Archer laughs.

“Hail, false king,” the golden-haired servant calls. “But where is your master? Finally working with someone smart enough to remain hidden from my presence?”

“I come alone, pampered king.”

The stranger’s voice holds the same arrogant edge of my Archer, but with a calmer, reserved tone. It calls up goosebumps on my arms. What did he mean that he was alone? No servant in this grail war had the ability to travel too far from their master. Unless of course, like me, that master no longer had dominion over their summoned servant.

“You did kill her then?” Archer asks, amused.

“No need. She was eliminated the traditional way.” The newcomer stays in the shadows, his thick voice rolling through the humid air with malice. “Foolish child attacked Assassin directly.” At this, he steps forward, and my eyes strain to identify him in the darkness. I wait for the moon to illuminate his face, but it turns out that I am the only one in the dark, here.

“So it’s down to us, Ozymandias.” Archer steps forward, kicking my shoulder as he passes. I don’t know if it is deliberate, but either way it hurts just as much. “I can finally prove to you just how worthless you really are, dog, with no interruptions.”

“No cowardly masters pulling back at the last moment,” Ozymandias returns the sentiment.

The tension is rising and I get the sense that these two forces are seconds away from reducing this road to rubble. It is a fight that I wouldn’t survive. As I raise my head once more, the newcomer - the rider, Ozymandias - is already raising a strange curved wand summoned out of the air. For his part, Gilgamesh’s hand is outstretched, visible waves of mana circling his spread fingers. Am I too late?

“Wait,” my voice comes out as a harsh breath. I try again. “Wait!” Both servants turn to face me. Archer looks visibly angered, but Ozymandias merely looks amused. “Do either of you truly wish to die that badly?” My mind is moving quickly, but even still I am not sure where I am taking this plea. I only know that I must try something.

“Not only do you dare to interrupt me, my worthless master, but now you question my fortitude?” Bile drips from Archer’s words.

“I only mean to say that, through a quirk of the grail, you both find yourselves to be heroic spirits in the real world, untethered to masters but in control of your own power. As long as your mana holds out, you are among the most powerful beings in this world. You risk wasting that power in a battle among yourselves?”

Archer is glaring at me, and I worry that I have sealed my fate. Then, a powerful laugh cuts through the crackle of Gilgamesh’s mana.

“Fuhahaha!” The laugh sounds almost more harmful than Archer’s threats. “Your ex-master has spirit, Gilgamesh. I understand now why such a weakling was able to bring you forth to this plane.”

Ouch. He’s right, though, and I can’t deny it.

“You would give credence to this mongrel’s begging?”

“Gilgamesh, I wish nothing more than to prove to you the ferocity of my own godhood, but alas, the mage is not wrong. Any power I waste executing you here is power I won’t have to sustain myself in this world.” Archer isn’t moving. He is still staring into my eyes, but I can see the confusion on his face. “I do not wish to see the other side of death again, and you must admit that even if you were to defeat me, you too would not live much longer after that battle.”

“Be that as it may, false king, I will not turn away from this battlefield without having proved my honor - though it pains me to say that it requires proving at all.”

Ozymandias smiles with a sickening expression, and I realize only now that he has already outpaced me and come up with a plan of his own. I haven’t seen him fight, but the legend of his intellect, at least, is true.

“Good pampered king, there are two extremes to this life, aren’t there? Just as there is life and death, there is pain and pleasure. Just as we visit winter at the end of the year, Spring comes.” He laughs again, and my goosebumps return. “So rather than seek death on this night, let us instead celebrate life and prove our worth through godly vigor.”

“What are you..? No. You are beneath me. I would never taint my body with your presence.”

“Fuaha!” Ozymandias laughs again. I am growing to hate the sound, and I fear that whatever success my distraction caused has now escalated beyond my understanding. “Nor would I sully myself with your sweat. I suggest we show our strength by acting on a third party. One that may be mortal enough to appreciate our splendor and thus bear witness to our true strength.” I feel his eyes fall onto me. “But where to find such a vessel?”

Archer seems to pause, and I struggle to read the expression on his face. Is it insult? But as quickly as it comes, his face changes to wry confidence. He turns slowly in place and begins to stride toward me.

“This mage would be a perfect judge for our contest,” he says, before throwing a sharp kick into my ribs. My vision spins as he laughs, and I fall to the asphalt. “He burned out his magic circuits attempting to pull me from battle. He hasn’t a drop of mana left in him.” Archer grabs my shoulder and pulls me up, dragging me toward Ozymandias, my legs trailing lifelessly behind.

“I could not have chosen a better judge, pampered king, but if you think I’m going to fuck a mortal on a dirty street, you truly insult me.”

I gasp in shock. Until now, I had convinced myself that I was misunderstanding their banter. I thought they were toying with me, or with each other. I open my mouth to protest, but before I can speak, Archer’s armored fingers are slipping into my mouth, choking off the word into a shrill cry.

“Soft lips, a yielding tongue,” Archer purrs, “I may actually enjoy pleasuring myself with this mongrel.” He drags me further into the street as the gravity of my situation becomes clear. “Very well, Rider. I accept your challenge. You will bear witness to my strength and learn how I can prove myself against a false king without wielding a single weapon against you. And this boy will declare my victory or suffer for the lack of judgment.”

Archer reaches one arm out again, passing his hand into a swirling ripple of mana. But instead of bringing forth a weapon from his armory, as I had seen him do previously, he instead beckoned for Ozymandias by tilting his head before stepping into the portal himself. I feel the crackling ice cold sensation of raw magic spreading across my back as he drags me through the Gate, and I see Ozymandias smile broadly as he strides toward us with confidence.

***

I find myself drowning in velvet. Plush pillows surround my body in a nest of muted reds, blues, and violets. I bat a gold-colored tassel out of my face and look around the cavernous room. Soft moonlight pours down on me from a dozen skylights hanging far overhead. The corners of the ceiling are lost in the darkness, and there is no way to visualize the actual shape and size of the chamber. Dotted around the floor, in no particular pattern, are massive braziers holding low flames which grant the space a warm orange glow. If I weren’t so terrified, it would be immensely relaxing. As my eyes adjust to the low light, I notice the unusual shapes and edges around me. Weapons, I realize. Countless thousands of swords, spears, and more are scattered across the immense floor, growing into piles like dunes as far as I can see. A desert of horded treasures and artifacts stretching across millenia.

I realize I am alone. Sitting up, I spy my captors, apparently ignoring me. Archer holds a plump glass of burgundy wine, sitting cross-legged in a tall throne. The rider stands opposite him, obviously disrespected but apparently uncaring of it. Of course, why would they bother to guard me - where would I go? I lay back among the pillows and rest. Whatever plan the two rivals are building, I know there is little I can do to stop it.

Only a few minutes pass before the crackle of low-burning flames is interrupted by approaching footsteps. Ozymandias is in front, Archer walking slowly behind him. My mind immediately reels with excuses, distractions, spells, but nothing surfaces. I can’t feel even the most minor spark of magic within me. My only hope is to come up with some response to whatever Ozymandias is about to say.

But it’s a chance I do not receive.

Even as I am thinking, the rider is only steps away. I blink in a haze as the white cape and golden ornaments of his clothing vanishes like smoke around him. He is a vision of bronze flesh and taut muscle as he reaches me, his stride unbroken, his face a mask of confident strength. I can’t move. My body won’t respond. The rider is on top of me and my mind is still struggling to keep up. My arms pull up between us, on pure instinct, but he barely needs to slow down as he pins them to my sides. Leaning against my abdomen with one arm, his other hand claws at my jeans, tugging at buttons and zippers. I gasp for air, but my struggling is weakening by the second. I see Archer standing behind us, staring down with amusement. If he had ever had any loyalty for me as a master, it has long expired.

“I normally bring a little more ceremony to my lovers, but let’s face it, mortal, you haven’t earned that title just yet.” I feel cold air on my thighs as denim is tugged from my body. “Nothing on under your jeans? It’s like you were waiting for me.” Rider reaches over me, grabbing both of my shoulders, and pulls me up. His skin is tight and beads of sweat are forming on his arms through the exertion. “Don’t look so panicked, mage. I know your powers are gone, and your strength is tapped. I have no desire to harm you.” He brings my face closer to his own, and speaks in a dark whisper. “You’re in luck, young Master. I’m in an unusual mood tonight. Tonight I set aside my nobility, and we shall share this bed like commoners.”

His breath is hot against my lips, and carries a tantalizing aroma of spice that makes me swallow in anticipation despite myself.

“I will take you in every way I know of, and when I am done, you will understand what it means to know god.”

He presses his mouth against mine, inhaling as his tongue fights between my lips. I draw back, but only for a moment, until I find myself drawn into the fire of his eyes. My body falls limp and only his powerful hands are keeping me from collapsing among the cushions. He steps back, and lets me fall, catching my t-shirt in one hand, tearing the fabric from my body as I fall.

“Are you enjoying this?” I ask myself. “I just need to survive. Don’t make things worse.”

I stare at the ceiling, afraid to look upon the rider, but I feel his energy standing over me like a lion over prey. But when he comes to me, it is not aggressive. His hands land on my ankles first - strong but soft fingers gripping my legs. The hands of a powerful king. Those fingers walk up my legs, inch by inch, as he crawls toward me. He explores every curve and angle of my calves, delicately running his thumb along the inside of my knee until I shiver involuntarily. He is leaning in, his cheek against my inner thigh. I could be minutes from death, and still I feel my stomach flip when he exhales against that sensitive skin. I want, desperately, to look down to watch his movements, but I fear angering him, so I stay still.

Pain. I jump in shock as he bites into the flesh of my thigh, and he laughs at the reaction.

“I would taste you, mortal. It has been too long since I have taken a master like this.”

At this I find the will to prop myself up on my elbows, in time to see the rider slither over me, pulling my cock into his mouth. He wraps his hands around my hips, and I can sense his satisfaction as the groan of surprised pleasure bursts from my throat. I can feel myself hardening against his tongue, my cock swelling as his refined nails claw into my hipbones. When he lifts his head, he lets his tongue linger on my now pronounced erection, his golden eyes locking my own into a cobra-like stare. He is motionless, and again I feel like I am trapped in the sight of a predator. He draws his right hand over to my cock, encircling its base with his fingers.

“Beg me, mortal.” He squeezes my cock, and my hips thrust upward. “Beg your god to be merciful and I may bring you some comfort before taking your body for my own use.” He releases my shaft and slides his hand between my legs, running his thumb so delicately around my balls, and then beneath to press against my hole.

“Please, my pharaoh,” I don’t know what I’m saying or why, but I feel myself aching for him. “Use me as you will.” He smiles, and his fingers return to my cock, grasping it like a scepter, gently running around its girth.

“Remember this pleasure, mortal.” Brown lips caress the head of my cock as the words come. “When you are begging me to stop, remember this gift that I have graced you with.” His lips part to take me in again, and the heat of his mouth surrounds me. I barely notice the pain of his nails raking across my stomach as his velvety tongue pulses against me. I grab handfuls of pillow, my spine arcing and my legs squeezing against his broad shoulders.

He shifts, refusing to lessen his dominance, even as he holds me in his mouth. Releasing my cock for just a moment, he forces my legs up and apart, reaching forward to hold my face in one hand. His thumb slides into my mouth, and I accept it eagerly. My pulse is racing and my mind blurs, but all I can smell is his musk, and I feel only an aching need for more. My eagerness pleases him. He licks his palm, slowly, and smirks as he wraps the slick hand around my shaft. He twirls it around my cock just a few times, watching my hips jerk at the sensation while I suckle desperately on his thumb, before reaching out to pull his index and middle fingers into my mouth instead. At times, I can’t believe what I’m doing, but my body seems to act on its own. Perhaps this really is the presence of divinity.

With no warning, he suddenly retreats, releasing my cock and pulling his fingers from my mouth. His eyes catch mine again as he drops his saliva-soaked fingers between my legs, pressing one fingertip, and then two, only slightly into me. He presses no further, instead forcing me to subsist on that minor pleasure. It’s a tease, and he savors it. He is treating me with an expertise that makes me feel that he knows my body better than I do. I catch my breath. He smiles, and again slips his licked palm around my cock. He doesn’t jerk me off, he massages me. His fingertips remain just inside my ass as his fingers spin around my cock. I don’t know what he expects of me, but I know I can’t afford to disappoint him.

“Going to cum,” I mutter, my voice syrupy. “Rider, I’m going to cum!”

His touch is gone immediately. And before I can even glance back down at him, I feel his entire strength against me, his hand tight around my throat.

“You will not address me as a servant, peasant,” he spits. “And you will not forget to ask me for my favor.”

“My pharaoh,” I am beyond self respect. “Please allow me to…” I am cut off by his fingers pressing into my ass again. This time, they don’t stop at the fingertip, but press deeper in. My last words trail off into a low groan as my muscles stretch around his movement. When his knuckles are pressed against my ass, he returns his other hand to my cock, pumping it vigorously. He flicks his fingers inside me, finding nerves and driving animal moans from deep within me. My legs tense and my hips buck up into his grasp as the orgasm crashes across my body. I feel my eyes roll back and the air floods from my lungs. Ozymandias doesn’t stop. He rhythmically massages my cock as heavy drops of cum fall onto my stomach and chest. Electricity ripples through my stomach and my legs ache and tingle. I can feel my ass clenching around his fingers, but they keep working inside me.

Finally, I am grabbing at his wrist, gasping for air, the tears welling in my eyes, before he relents. He crawls backward, off of my shaking body, as I cough and gulp down oxygen. I let myself sink into the cushions. If this is the extent of their contest, I think, perhaps I will barely survive after all.

“Now that you have received this boon,” the pharaoh’s voice brings me back to reality. I curl forward to look upon him, following the jagged angles of his abs down to the firm length jutting out from his muscular hips. “It is time to service your god.”


End file.
